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"What will you do?" she demanded, fronting the issue that must

sooner or later rise.

The raucous jangle of his laugh failed to disturb the steadiness

of her gaze. To reassure himself of his mastery he began to

bluster, to threaten, turning loose such a storm of vile abuse as

she had never heard. He was plainly working his nerve up to the

necessary pitch.

In her first terror she had dropped the reins. Her hands had

slipped unconsciously under the lap-robe. Now one of them touched

something chilly on the seat beside her. She almost gasped her

relief. It was the selfsame revolver with which she had tried to

hold up the Texan.

In the midst of Struve's flood of invective the girl's hand

leaped quickly from the lap-robe. A cold muzzle pressed against

his cheek brought the convict's outburst to an abrupt close.

"If you move I'll fire," she said quietly.